Own Me
by NightFuryofGallifrey
Summary: No one ever wins the games, whether or not the odds are in your favor. My name is Haymitch Abernathy. I survived the 50th Annual Hunger Games. Survived. But that was it. One-shot, from Haymitch's POV. Set shortly after the 50th Hunger Games.


**A/N: **Hey guys! This is my first venture into the world of Hunger Games fanfiction. I haven't read the books in a while, so I hope everything is in-line with canon. If I screwed something up, please let me know. :)

Haymitch is my all-time favourite THG character. I don't think he gets enough love.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Hunger Games, or any of the characters. If I did, I would have changed quite a few things with the first movie...

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No one ever wins the games, whether or not the odds are in your favor.

My name is Haymitch Abernathy. I survived the 50th Annual Hunger Games.

Survived.

But that was it.

I was crowned victor, but I didn't win.

I was alive, but there were days, weeks when I wished I had died in the Arena.

I wish I had "won" another way. I showed up the Capitol, exploited the one weakness in the Arena. I should have known better. I should have known they wouldn't have let it go unaddressed.

Because I am the Capitol's darling victor, they couldn't touch me.

But they have other ways.

Less than a month after being crowned victor, I sit in my new house in the Victor's Village alone.

My family was dead.

They didn't take only my family, but her.

I am alone.

I roll the neck of the bottle in between my hands, staring at the wall.

Setting the bottle down, I walk across the room and open the cupboard. I take out a box from inside and open it, lifting out a sleek dagger.

I turn it over in my hands, its lethal edges gleaming in the faint light. I'd bought it at the Hob that morning, along with the bottles of liquor. It hadn't been cheap, since weapons were forbidden, but I could afford it.

Greasy Sae had looked at me with sad understanding in her eyes, but she hadn't stopped me.

I had no one. And no one needed me.

I run my finger along the blade, barely flinching when it cuts through my skin. I draw my hand back, watching dully as a bright pinprick of red appears and runs down my finger.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the blade. For a moment, I can see my mother's sad eyes looking back at me. Then I tilt the blade and she's gone as quickly as the Capitol had taken her. And my brother.

And the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The girl I had fought to survive for. The girl I had outlived 47 tributes to come home to.

As I turn the blade over again, I wonder if I'll be able to see her again in death.

At least the cold emptiness would go away.

_Maybe this is the way I can win_, I think bitterly. Show the Capitol they only own so much of me. Outfox them one last time. I have no one left for them to hurt when I'm gone.

Clenching the handle of the dagger, I turn and walk back to the table. Sitting down in the chair, I wonder if I should leave a note. Make sure my small, meaningless act of rebellion was clear.

Taking the dagger, I stick the point into the wooden table and carve a few words into the surface. _You don't own me_.

The note done, I take the dagger and point it at my chest, trying to decide which would be the fastest way to go.

The irony strikes me that the Capitol still won't have a victor from District 12. Then the thought occurs to me that that means the next two tributes won't have a mentor. I slowly lower the dagger, a frown crossing my face. I knew how much more difficult it was to go through the games without a mentor. I had to use my own wits to figure out the way of things. Neither I or any of the other tributes from 12 had received any help from sponsors, due to the fact we had no one pulling for us on the other side.

I growl in frustration and stab the knife down into the middle of the word _don't._ Looks like they still do.

I have two people who would need me. But not yet. Not for a year. Until then, I am still alone.

I pick up the bottle from the table and take the first drink.


End file.
